


Claimed By a God, Make That an Angel

by LyingHonesty



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Demon Blood, Grace Bonding, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Questionable Consent, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-07
Updated: 2012-04-07
Packaged: 2017-11-03 04:52:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/377487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LyingHonesty/pseuds/LyingHonesty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gabriel rescues Sam from some demons, furious that they've taken what he considers to be his.  He promises Sam he'll take care of everything, and when Sam's recovered, they take some extra measures to keep it from happening again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Claimed By a God, Make That an Angel

Hazel eyes fluttered, and Sam's vision swam. He groaned softly and, with a great effort, lifted his head to look around. It took a minute for his vision to clear, and when it did, he saw he was in a warehouse. He hummed, annoyed, and moved to get up.

His hands were tied behind his back, around the wooden beam he was leaning against. He muttered a swear, and tried to grasp the knots with his fingers to identify them. Unfortunately, however he was tied kept him from reach the knots with either of his hands. He sighed and let his head fall back against the beam with a thump. “Fuck.”

The loud screech of an old heavy door opening pierced the air, and Sam cringed. “Oh look here, boys. Little Sammy's awake,” a feminine voice purred. Sam jerked in surprise, and looked up. He stared at the woman before him, unable to believe.

It was impossible.

They had killed this demon. 

“What's the matter, Sam? Surprised to see me?” She chuckled and crouched in front of Sam. “You know, I really thought we had something.” She traced his jaw delicately. Sam grit his teeth and tore his gaze from her. She was wearing a brunette – short fringe, straight hair tied back into a tight, neat ponytail that reached her waist. Bright green eyes, when the demon black receded. The woman was tall and athletic, and the demon wore a simple white tank top, dark jeans, and black boots. “Don't tell me you don't recognize me? C'mon, Sammy, even after your so-called 'detox', I know you can sense me. Who am I? I know you know.”

“Ruby,” Sam spat. “How?”

“Oh, that's a secret you'll never know.” She cupped his chin and forced him to look up at her. He scowled. Her expression was one of sorrow, disappointment. “Sam... Lucifer was hurt that you wouldn't let him in. You were supposed to be there, all ready to serve, to be whatever he wanted you to be, to do whatever he wanted you to do. That was everything we worked for, and you just threw it all out, because you wouldn't say yes.”

“Nope,” Sam said, smiling darkly. “And I'm not going to. Not ever.” Ruby lifted a delicate eyebrow.

“Oh?” Sam nodded, determined. Ruby smiled. “Well, if you're so sure, you won't mind if I give it a shot at breaking down your resolve, will you?” She produced a long knife and, watching Sam carefully, she sliced open her arm. The scent of her blood filled the air, and Sam's breath hitched, want curling deep in his gut and settling there.

“No,” he breathed, turning his head away. “No, get the fuck away from me.” Ruby clucked her tongue chidingly and set the knife down so she could twist her fingers into Sam's long hair and force him to face her. He gritted his teeth and glared at her. She held her arm in front of his mouth, letting the scent saturate the air he was breathing. He closed his eyes, a low growl rumbling in his chest. He wouldn't. Dean, he thought. Dean. I can't. I promised Dean, I can't disappoint him. Ruby hummed thoughtfully after five long minutes passed.

“You two,” she barked, looking to the other demons. Sam's eyes snapped open. Ruby smiled at him as two demons joined her, both wearing males. They each took up the knife, one after the other, and sliced open their skin. The scent of blood intensified, the air around Sam becoming thick and heavy with it.

Thirsty.

Sam didn't close his eyes. Doing that made the smell worse. He just thought of Dean, pictured his face, pictured his disappointment whenever Sam slipped up. Every ten minutes, one more demon came over and took up the knife, until twenty demons surrounded Sam, the scent of their blood pressing in on him. He stayed stubborn, refusing to open his mouth, even as the scent overwhelmed him. His breath was shallow, craving twisting in his gut, nostrils flaring. He started humming, distracting himself with bars of Metallica to keep Dean at the forefront of his mind.

Finally, one of the male demons growled, annoyed. He swiped his fingers through his own blood and painted it over Sam's lips. Sam's breath hitched, stuttered, a weak sound of wantneedtake escaping despite his clenched teeth and tight lips.

Ruby grinned. “There's an idea,” she murmured. Louder, she asked, “Who wants a go at little Sammy? We can't kill or seriously maim him, but I'm sure some of you have... other... needs and desires. Right?” Sam's eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed into a hard glare.

“I'd like some time with him,” the male demon who'd spread his blood over Sam's lips said, watching Sam thoughtfully. Sam didn't like it. Ruby smiled, standing and backing away. “Alright, first round's yours then, Chris. Everyone else... feel free to watch.” She walked away. Chris took her place, tugging Sam's legs out straight and straddling him.

“So, you're the Boy King. Lucifer's Vessel. I'm... impressed.” Sam's eyes locked on Chris's tongue as he licked up his own blood. The demon grinned. “Come on, Sam. Just open your mouth, just a little.” Sam's jaw muscles worked, and the demons all saw it. He was fighting himself. Chris painted the blood on Sam's lips a little thicker, then, with a smirk, grabbed the back of his head with one hand, and pinched his nostrils closed with the other. Sam jerked, eyes widening in panic, and the other demons murmured eagerly amongst themselves as he struggled to get air without opening his mouth.

Sam's lungs burned, his vision swam. Finally, with a last thought of apology to Dean, he parted his lips with a desperate gasp. Oxygen, sweet oxygen, flooded his lungs, and he took grateful gulps of it, head clearing slowly. He could taste the blood on his lips now, and he reflexively flicked out his tongue to catch it. Chris grinned before licking up another mouthful of his own blood and diving forward, slanting his mouth over Sam's and pushing the blood through, coating Sam's palate with it. Sam's eyes fell shut and he groaned softly, swallowing reflexively. He dropped his head back against the beam when Chris released him, and tilted it obligingly when teeth nipped at his throat. “Please,” he whispered, mind a haze of lust and hunger.

“Yes?” Chris breathed into his ear, pulling away from Sam's neck. Sam whimpered softly, arms straining to reach, to touch, to pin, to take.

“More... please....”

Another demon pressed her bleeding arm to Sam's lips, and he drank deeply, moaning as Chris carefully, playfully, tore his shirt down the middle and pushed it off of him. Teeth nipped at his torso, not an inch going untouched. While he worked, the other demons traded off the responsibility of offering their blood. By the fifth demon, Sam was panting with arousal, his jeans long disposed of. By the eighth demon, he was willingly spreading his legs, pleading, and as the blood supply was cut off, Chris was sinking into Sam with ease. Sam moaned, rocking his hips.

“More,” he gasped, tilting his hips to find the best angle. “More, please.”

“Tell me what you want, Sam,” Chris purred, rocking into Sam slowly. Sam groaned.

“Harder,” he muttered. “C'mon, you're a fucking demon, aren't you? Harder.” Chris chuckled and adjusted his grip. He bent down and nipped at Sam's jaw. 

“You asked for it.” 

He snapped his hips, and Sam cried out, arching. Chris growled, a deep feral sound, and gripped Sam's shoulders, digging his fingers in hard enough to draw blood. Sam pulled at his bindings desperately. He didn't bottom well, no matter if his legs were wrapped around someone, or someone else's legs were wrapped around him. He tugged and pulled his arms, not once faltering in meeting Chris's thrusts. 

“Damn it,” he growled, when he succeeded in nothing more than chafing his wrists. Chris grinned at him.

“Problem, Sam?”

Sam growled, jerking his hips. “Would you just... fuck... I need to... Let me... C'mon...” 

“Don't be so demanding. Ask nicely, Sam. Ask nicely and I'll think about it.”

Sam groaned and let his head hit the beam. “Let me come,” he gasped. “C'mon, please. Please let me.” Chris wrapped his fingers around Sam's erection and Sam whimpered as he began a steady, rough pull. He dragged Sam's orgasm out of him, and Sam let out a hoarse cry. His muscles clenched and fluttered around Chris deep within him, and the demon sank his teeth into Sam's shoulder in time with his own release.

They left Sam, naked, covered in demon blood and his own release, sore and aching, but with power thrumming through his veins.

–

Sam had lost track of how long the demons had been keeping him. They had him on a cycle. For a few days, they'd give him blood, while the ones that wanted to used the blood-induced lust to slake their own. They never offered to clean him up, and he never bothered to ask. A little after care might have been nice, but he knew better than to expect anything like kindness. With the demon blood dancing in his veins, he couldn't be bothered to care, so long as they kept giving him blood.

Then, before he got too powerful, they cut him off abruptly. They would let the withdrawals torment him, listening jovially to his screams as his system tore him apart, demanding what it craved. He didn't know how long the pain lasted, but as soon as the pain stopped and the hallucinations began, another demon was there, offering their arm.

During the withdrawals, between bouts of wracking pain, the demons could hear Sam's scream roughened voice humming. None of them really understood it, but whenever Ruby heard it she scowled and left to kill someone.

The first day of each withdrawal, Ruby would stand before Sam and ask him if he wold let Lucifer in. Sam said no every time.

–

The angel arrived during a feeding. He ripped demons away from Sam, grabbing them by their scruffs like errant cats and tossing them aside. The demon buried hilt deep within Sam was dragged away and viciously ripped apart. Sam cried out in dismay at the loss of blood flow, the denial of release. The demons that could, fled, horrified by this powerful child of God, whose wrath permeated the air around them.

Sam couldn't flee, still bound as he was. He curled himself in as tightly as he could, instincts screaming that he was in danger, that this creature that had taken his food source could kill him without a thought. He whimpered and cringed as demons screamed and died around him, and he buried his face in his knees, muttering pleas under his breath. 

The angel found Ruby and recognized her instantly. He grabbed her and ripped her out of her host body, pinning her demonic essence in place. “How dare you,” the angel snarled, twisting the Ruby's essence harshly. A scream echoed around the warehouse. “How dare you lay your hands on what's mine?”

“He...belongs...to Lucifer!” Ruby snarled through her pain. The angel scowled.

“He is mine. He has always been mine. Lucifer cannot have him, and neither can you!” His last words were reinforced by the power of the angel's Grace, and with a flick of his wrist, Ruby ceased to exist. The angel was at Sam's side in an instant. “Sammy,” he breathed anxiously. Sam cringed. “Sammy it's me. It's Gabriel. You're safe, I'm not going to hurt you, I promise.”

“...Gabriel?” Sam asked, uncurling slowly. Gabriel smiled, relieved, and threaded gentle fingers through matted brown hair.

“Hey, kiddo. You're safe now, I got you.” Sam smiled, and for a moment, he lit up with it, right down to his battered soul. An instant later, it vanished, and Sam's face twisted with fear.

“No,” he breathed. “No. Oh no, Gabriel... Gabriel I... Gabriel, they were giving me demon blood. I didn't want to, I tried to.... but I couldn't help it.” He whined. “Dean's gonna be so mad at me....” He sounded so young and broken, and Gabriel reached out gently.

“It's okay, Sam. Don't you worry, I'll take care of you.” A snap of fingers, and Sam's arms were free. Another snap, and the warehouse was gone.

–

Gabriel squirreled Sam away to one of his personal safe houses. He sent Castiel a message that he had found Sam, but that he was in bad shape and would need a while to recover. Castiel asked to be kept informed, and left it at that. 

Gabriel had never seen demon blood withdrawal before. Sam had assured him going cold turkey was the best way to go, in spite of the pain it wracked him with. Gabriel soothed him through it. When Sam started begging for the blood, Gabriel only told him no and ran his fingers through long hair. His Grace twisted and wrenched sympathetically as he watched the pain Sam was experiencing, knowing he could do nothing to ease it.

Between bouts of pain, Gabriel tried to feed Sam what he could keep down. He gave him a lot of water. During the pain, Gabriel held Sam tightly to keep him from hurting himself, and sang to him in Enochian, all vowels and soft consonants. Some times, he sang “Hey Jude” to him. Sam didn't understand how, but it never failed to ease him into much needed sleep.

–

The fever finally broke after two weeks, and Sam looked up at Gabriel with bleary eyes. “Gabriel?” he asked uncertainly. Gabriel looked down in surprise, and smiled. 

“Sam! Oh, thank Dad!” 

Sam yelped in surprise as Gabriel's mouth crashed into his. They tumbled off the couch in a heap, Gabriel twisting fingers into Sam's hair and holding down one wrist with his free hand. “Gabriel,” Sam muttered, when Gabriel finally broke the kiss. “Gabriel, what are you-”

“Those demons tried to take you away, Sam,” Gabriel growled. “They tried to take you away and give you to Lucifer. Well, he can't have you. You are mine. You belong to me. I'm not letting anyone else have you, not anymore.” Sam closed his eyes as those words washed over him. Gabriel leaned down and whispered into Sam's ear, “Be my Grace-bond, Sammy. I'll never let another angel touch you, I swear. I'll teach you to use your abilities without demon blood. I'll protect you, you'll never be outside my hearing. No sigils or spells will keep me from finding you. You'll be mine, wholly and completely. Even Lucifer won't be able to touch you.” 

“Yours? Like...?”

Gabriel sighed. “It's not completely even or equal. It never will be. But I'll try to make it as close as I can. I'll be fair to you Sam, and I'll take care of you. I promise you that.” Sam looked up into Gabriel's eyes, searching.

“You're telling Dean,” he said finally. “And we're not doing this on the floor.” Gabriel grinned and snapped his fingers. 

–

It was nothing like sex with demons. Gabriel's kisses were deep and slow, and tasted of honey rather than blood. His hands trailed Sam's skin featherlight and teasing. Instead of forcing Sam to submit to him, Gabriel took Sam apart slowly, every kiss and touch a promise of what Sam could have. All he had to do was ask. 

And he did.

Sam asked and begged, he writhed and pleaded. Gabriel's every touch sent Grace arcing like electricity across Sam's nerves, over-sensitizing them. He chased Gabriel's tongue when the angel kissed him. He arched so beautifully when the angel bit at his throat, marking him with a physical claim anyone could recognize. Sam's nails dragged down Gabriel's back in return, and Gabriel didn't bother healing marks left behind. 

“Gabriel, Gabriel please. Want you, please, need, pleasepleaseplease!”

Gabriel chuckled softly and slipped slick fingers – was that oil? Where did he get oil? - between Sam's legs, seeking, pressing, pushing into him. None of the demons did this. They weren't this careful. They just split Sam open, and sure, the pain had been numbed by his blood-induced high, but this still meant something to Sam. He threw back his head and arched into the angel, eyes closing. His breath came in short, sharp bursts of air, and he let it out shakily, spreading his legs as far as he could and pleading. 

“That's enough, I'm ready. I'm ready, Gabriel, c'mon, need you, need you now, c'mon, c'mon!”

Gabriel squeezed Sam's left thigh and shushed him. “Relax, Sam. I've got you. Just sit back and enjoy it.” Sam felt it as Gabriel's whole body gave a shudder, and he gasped as golden wings burst into existence above him, feathers everywhere, blocking out the dim lighting around them. Sam's senses were overwhelmed by the scent and taste of chocolate, citrus, peppermint, ocean, rain and ozone that filled the air, thickened it until it had noticeable weight. 

While he was distracted by the scents, Gabriel pulled his fingers free of Sam and adjusted his position over him. He kissed Sam lightly, briefly, before meeting his eyes as he pressed the head of his cock to Sam's loosened muscles. “Sam,” he breathed, “close your eyes for me, sugar. Close your eyes, just this once.” Sam obeyed, lashes fanning out over his cheekbones as he did, and Gabriel smiled, kissing both of Sam's eyelids before sinking in. Sam gasped and clutched at Gabriel, blindly seeking something, anything, to anchor him as Gabriel began a smooth pace, easing in and out of Sam. He was unhurried, gentle. It wasn't exactly his style, and the way Sam strained against him told him that his human was used to a far rougher lovemaking than Gabriel was giving him.

But this was important.

He promised Sam he would take care of him, and he intended to. Sam's body might crave quick, rough sex that was all strength and power, but Gabriel knew, just knew, that wasn't what he needed. Slowly, carefully, Gabriel reached out with his Grace to find Sam's soul. Instead of the white-hot, burning invasion that many angels used to touch a human soul, Gabriel used his Grace to coax Sam's soul to simply let him in. He twisted together with Sam, with all that Sam was, Grace mingling with soul even as body twisted into body. Cradling that soul – battered, bruised, torn, but shining brightly still, refusing to be broken – Gabriel knew that he had chosen right. Sam's body cried for faster, harder, but his soul sighed with gratitude at the gentle love it was being granted.

So long, this soul had gone neglected, used, guilt-ridden and barely pieced together. Gabriel could read the trespasses suffered by this soul like a book, and he wanted to cry for this human. Sam reminded him so much of Lucifer, and without love and guidance, Sam would give in to the First to Fall. Words were the very worst. Words of his brother (“You're a vampire, Sam”, “If I didn't know you, I would want to hunt you”, “Going out to get your fix?”), words of the angel that had shaken Sam's faith when Sam was the only one who had faith (“Sam, of course, is an abomination”, “Ah yes, Sam Winchester, the boy with the demon blood”) and the words of Sam's own father (“If you walk out that door, don't you ever come back!”, “If you can't save him, Dean, you have to kill him”). There were others, less prominent, but still there, and Gabriel soothed the pain with Love and Forgiveness.

“Your soul is so beautiful, Sam,” Gabriel breathed. He rocked into Sam slowly, stealing his already short breath with deep kisses filled with promise. “So beautiful, so pure and kind, despite everything you've been through.”

“Liar,” Sam groaned. “Even Cas still shies away from me, from what's in my blood, my soul. Tell me the truth, Gabriel. Please, don't lie to me.”

“I'm not,” Gabriel growled, control slipping for a moment and body shoving into Sam's roughly, crushing their hips together. Sam gasped and twisted into the movement. Gabriel reigned himself in and allowed his Grace to brush Sam's soul in apology. “I'm not lying to you. Your soul is so bright. It's... it's twisted and it's in so much pain, but not broken, not tainted. It's bright, almost as bright as my Grace.” Gabriel shifted his focus from the soul he was wrapping in his Grace, and he saw that Sam was... Sam was crying, tears rolling from his eyes, still clenched shut. Gabriel smiled affectionately and leaned down to kiss Sam. He closed his own eyes, buried himself deeply in Sam's body, and cocooned them in his wings as his Grace burst out. 

Grace and soul twisted, blended, merged. Gabriel soothed the words of Sam's family, eased the pain and guilt from his stint with Ruby. He healed the rips and tears caused by knowledge that Sam was supposed to be some sort of demonic leader. To his surprise, Sam's soul responded in kind. It held onto Gabriel's Grace as tightly as he held onto it, and tenderly soothed the holes left behind from Heaven. You couldn't watch them destroy each other, he hears, It doesn't make you a bad person. You didn't do anything wrong.

Gabriel gasped as the bond completed, and he distantly heard Sam cry out his name, felt him twist grasping fingers into golden feathers. The light faded around them, and Gabriel carefully withdrew from Sam's body. He summoned a soft cloth with a snap of his fingers, and gently cleaned Sam's release from his human's stomach and chest. Another cloth and he was tenderly his own release from Sam's entrance, sparking Grace from his fingers to Sam's reddened skin, soothing the burn. Sam hummed, and pulled Gabriel close when he was done with the after care. 

“So,” Sam muttered, half asleep. “This makes me yours?” Gabriel smiled, brushing hair out of Sam's face.

“Yeah, Samsquatch. You're all mine. Forever. Think you can handle it?”

Sam smiled, eyes opening just enough to see Gabriel. He cupped the angel's cheek. “Can we pretend it makes you mine, too?”

“I promised you as fair as I could make it. Everything that I expect from you I'll do my very best to give back. And I'm an angel, so my very best is pretty awesome.” Sam chuckled and kissed Gabriel gently.

“Then yeah, I can handle it.”

“Good.”

Gabriel watched his human drift into sleep, and reached out with his Grace to feel the claim he had on the human's soul. Much like a cupid left a mark of love written in Enochian on the hearts of destined couples, Gabriel had left his own mark in Enochian on Sam's very soul. He smiled, sensing it, and wondered if it would be enough. He let his fingers dance along Sam's torso, over his shoulders, down his arms, around his waist...

He thought about Dean and Castiel. About the scar on Dean's shoulder. It wasn't anything special, merely evidence of being touched by an angel's Grace. But he knew that lately, Castiel had been considering making it more. Feeding Grace through it and forming a bond with Dean, if Dean would accept it. Gabriel traced over Sam's hip. Handprints were boring, he mused. With one finger, he traced a sigil over Sam's hip, directing his Grace to make the marking visible. He went over it a few times, darkening it, layering the power. He smiled, satisfied, before closing his eyes and allowing himself the luxury of sleep.

Sam was his. Sam was safe. The rest of the world could fuck off for a few hours. He'd give Castiel a call in the morning.


End file.
